


Downward Goat

by ghostinthelibrary



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Falling In Love, Gratuitous goats, Lil Bleater is a menace, M/M, Meet-Cute, Minor Aiden/Lambert (The Witcher), Minor Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Minor Renfri/Deidre, Minor Triss Merigold/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Smut, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:14:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28440735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostinthelibrary/pseuds/ghostinthelibrary
Summary: When Eskel’s goat farm hits hard times, his employee, Deidre, comes up with a brilliant solution: offering goat yoga.  Eskel is skeptical at first, but he’s won over by the charming, blue-eyed yoga instructor, Jaskier, and his collection of colorful leggings.
Relationships: Eskel/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 76
Kudos: 281





	Downward Goat

**Author's Note:**

> 2020 has been a shit show, so here's 16K words of pure fluff to finish it off with. This was originally posted on my Tumblr and can be found [here](https://ghostinthelibrarywrites.tumblr.com/post/638979822516928512/downward-goat-masterpost) if you prefer that format.
> 
> Content warning: In this fic, Eskel has a past issue with alcoholism, which is discussed, but never in depth. No alcohol is abused during the events of this story.

“What kind of yoga?” Eskel looks in dismay at his employee, Deidre, who is normally a sensible young woman with great ideas, except for when she suggests things like… 

“Goat yoga,” Deidre says briskly. “It’s the latest yoga trend.”

“Is it like hot yoga?”

She gives him an exasperated look. “No, hot yoga is hot. Goat yoga has goats.”

“But why?”

“Because people love goats. Especially baby ones, which we’re going to have plenty of in the next couple of weeks.” Deidre nods towards the pregnant does grazing in the paddock.

“But goats are loud.” Eskel is bewildered. “And they stink.”

“I think that adds to the charm,” Deidre says. “Look, it’s been a rough year.”

“Well aware.” Kaer Morhen Farms is struggling and if Eskel doesn’t have a profitable season, he’ll have to close down the farm he inherited from his foster father, Vesemir. The thought of having to break that news to Vesemir fills him with shame.

“But I think this could be good for us! Bellbrooke Farms charges twenty crowns per person, obviously split between them and the instructor. They get about fifteen people per class. If we hold classes three times a week— I’m thinking a weekend, a morning, and an evening class just to hit all our bases—”

Eskel holds up his hand. “Wait, an instructor?”

Deidre gives him a flat look. “Well, were _you_ planning to teach it?”

Eskel snorts at the idea of trying to twist his burly form into graceful yoga poses. “Unlikely.”

“Don’t worry.” Deidre waves a dismissive hand. “I know a guy.”

***

It only takes twenty minutes after Deidre posts about goat yoga on social media for Eskel to get a call from Lambert. “Goat yoga?” his little brother asks through peals of laughter.

Eskel sits on his front porch with a cup of coffee tea in hand, watching as the sun sets over the Blue Mountains in the distance. “It’s apparently the new yoga trend.”

“Yoga has trends?”

“According to Deidre.”

“Are the goats going to do yoga?”

“No, they’re just there for ambiance.”

“Sounds like a bunch of bullshit.”

“Lucrative bullshit, allegedly.”

“Was it your idea to call it Downward Goat?”

Eskel grimaces. “No, that was all Deidre.”

There’s the murmur of a male voice in the background and Lambert groans. “Aiden says to sign him up.”

Eskel grins. Since there’s no one but the goats around, he doesn’t have to worry about his scars stretching. “Tell him he gets a discount for staying married to your cranky ass.”

“He thinks my ass is my best—”

Eskel hangs up on him.

***

Eskel forgets all about goat yoga over the next few weeks. He has four does give birth, farmer’s market season starts so he’s traveling around Kaedwen constantly to sell his wares, and his niece, Ciri, turns twelve. There’s so much to do that he barely pays attention to Deidre’s updates on how many people are signed up for Downward Goat and how the preparations are going. He mostly puts it out of his mind until he’s fixing a collapsed fence one morning and hears a warm, smooth voice behind him say, “You must be Eskel.”

Eskel brushes sweaty hair out of his face and turns around. He nearly drops his hammer when he sees the man standing behind him. He’s probably in his early-to-mid-twenties, tall and broad-shouldered with startlingly blue eyes and a brilliant smile. A generous amount of chest hair peeks out from under his bright pink tank top.

“I’m Jaskier.” The man holds out his hand to shake. “Deidre’s told me so much about you.”

Eskel hurriedly wipes some of the sweat and dirt off his palm and shakes Jaskier’s hand. He’s acutely aware that after a morning of physical labor in the hot sun, he’s a complete mess.

“Thanks for putting this together,” Jaskier says.

Eskel manages to find his voice. “Deidre did most of the work.” He lets his gaze drop and notices that Jaskier is wearing electric purple leggings decorated with cartoon images of goats.

Jaskier looks down with a self-deprecating smile. “Too on the nose?”

“No.” Eskel clears his throat. The leggings are skin tight and leave nothing to the imagination— not the swell of his ass, the muscled thickness of his thighs, the graceful curve of his calves, or the generous bulge in the front of his pants. “They’re, um… they’re nice.”

“Thanks.” Jaskier does a little wiggle that should look ridiculous on a grown man. Eskel’s mouth goes dry. “I mean, what’s the point of a job like this if I can’t wear fun pants?”

Eskel aims to say something witty, charming, and maybe a little flirty. What comes out is, “ _Hngh_.”

Jaskier’s smile widens. “A pleasure to meet you, Eskel. You should join the class sometime.”

Eskel shakes his head. “Yoga’s not my thing. I’m not flexible at all.”

“Oh, I think you might surprise yourself.” Jaskier’s gaze flickers up and down Eskel’s body. “I offer private lessons, if that’s more your thing.”

“Jaskier!” Deidre calls before Eskel can figure out what the hell he’s supposed to say to that. “Come on, you were supposed to be set up five minutes ago!”

“Ah, duty calls.” Jaskier grins. “I’m sure I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah.” Eskel can feel his face turning red. “Yeah, you too.”

As Jaskier walks away, Eskel does his best not to stare at the other man’s ass. He fails spectacularly. Maybe goat yoga wasn’t such a terrible idea after all. He may need to give Deidre a raise.

***

The next time goat yoga is scheduled, Eskel makes sure he’s showered, freshly shaved, and wearing his nicest pair of jeans and a new flannel shirt without any holes or stains. When Deidre shows up for work, she blinks at him in surprise. “You look dapper.”

He doesn’t know whether or not he should be offended by her surprise. “If you think this is dapper, your girlfriend needs to take you out more.”

“Feel free to tell Renfri that in a couple of minutes. She’s coming to yoga.”

“Is that who that second coffee is for?” Eskel nods to the two enormous iced coffees in her hands. “With all that whipped cream, I know it’s not for me.”

“No, it’s for Jask. He can’t drink coffee unless it tastes like a candy bar threw up in it.”

“Lovely,” Eskel says dryly. “How do you know Jaskier, again?”

“Oh, he was in my Econ class last year. He had no idea what was going on for most of the semester, but he’s so good at talking out of his ass that no one knew the difference.”

“Ah.” If Jaskier is around the same age as Deidre, who is twenty-two, then he’s even younger than Eskel realized, far too young for Eskel to be wondering what kind of leggings he’ll be wearing today. A hope that Eskel didn’t even realize he was harboring shrivels up in his chest and dies.

There’s a horrible noise and Eskel and Deidre both look up to see the shittiest car in existence pull up next to Deidre’s. It’s a rusted brown sedan with a windshield that’s so badly cracked that Eskel can’t believe it passed inspection, a missing driver’s side mirror, and an engine that makes a terrible rattling sound. If Geralt, who used to work in a mechanic’s shop part time before he became a park ranger at Blue Mountains National Park, saw this car, he would probably have a stroke.

“Good morning!” Jaskier sings out as he bounces out of the death trap. “Oh, Deidre, love of my life, light of my soul—”

“Keep it in your pants, Jask.” She holds out the coffee to him. “I can’t believe you still drive that piece of shit.”

He gasps and takes the offered coffee with an air of wounded dignity. Today, he’s wearing a pair of shimmery blue-green leggings patterned to look like fish scales. He resembles some kind of mercreature from a fairy tale. “Pegasus has been my noble steed since I was sixteen! She even passed inspection this year.”

“Only because you cried all over the mechanic and he wanted you out of his shop.”

“You’re lucky I’m reliant on you for caffeine this morning, or I would be reconsidering this friendship.”

“And then where would I be?” The acid in her voice is belied by the slight curl of her lips.

Eskel clears his throat. “Morning, Jaskier.”

“Eskel!” Jaskier turns to beam at him. “It’s so good to see a friendly face, unlike this she-demon. Are you joining us in class today?”

“Told you, yoga’s not my thing.”

“And I told you, you might surprise yourself.” Jaskier winks at him. “You should pop your head in. You might see something that changes your mind.”

Eskel carefully doesn’t look anywhere but at Jaskier’s face. He doesn’t notice that the shirt Jaskier is wearing is the same vibrant blue as his eyes. “We’ll see.”

Eskel doesn’t intend to poke his head into the tent where goat yoga is being held. It’s a busy morning. The fact that most of his tasks for the morning are within earshot of the tent, so he can hear Jaskier’s cheerful voice reminding the class to breathe, is purely coincidental. But when he hears an outburst of giggles from the tent, he can’t help but look inside to see what the fuss is about.

There are about a dozen students in the class, including Aiden, Renfri, Geralt’s wife, Yennefer, and her girlfriend, Triss. At the front of the tent, Jaskier is doing the one yoga pose Eskel is familiar with: downward dog. Eskel would be distracted by the sight of Jaskier’s blue, sparkly, and unbelievably shapely ass sticking in the air if it weren’t for the goat standing on his back.

Lil Bleater is only a few months old and has already shown more personality than most goats— and most people, for that matter— do in a lifetime. Meaning, she’s a menace who likes to bully all the other animals and get into things she’s not supposed to. The little brown and white goat has her front hooves planted between Jaskier’s shoulder blades and is nibbling on his hair. Jaskier’s face is bright red from the effort of holding in his laughter.

It’s the cutest thing Eskel has ever seen, except for maybe that time Ciri dressed as a goat for Halloween when she was six.

Renfri manages to snap a picture, which Deidre immediately decides to use for marketing purposes. It goes on all the flyers and the social media posts that she puts out. And if in the coming weeks, Eskel frequently finds himself looking at the flyer he has pinned up in his office and feeling a warm glow in his chest at the sight of Jaskier’s laughing eyes and brilliant smile, that’s no one’s business but his own.

***

Goat yoga is a runaway success, spurred on by Deidre’s liberal use of the picture of Jaskier and Lil Bleater in her marketing materials. Within a few weeks, they have wait lists for all three of their classes, so they add two more, one on Sunday afternoons and a BYOB wine and yoga event on Wednesday evenings. Both classes fill up instantly. For the first time in a few years, Eskel is feeling optimistic about the future of Kaer Morhen Farms. It isn’t solely because of Downward Goat— they didn’t lose a single kid this year and they’re having a good year at the farmers’ markets— but it’s helping.

Eskel can admit to himself that he would add as many classes as Jaskier is willing to teach, even if goat yoga wasn’t such a success, because he never gets tired of Jaskier calling his name and waving to him as he strides towards the tent, hips rolling from side to side in whatever pair of leggings he’s wearing that day. Eskel always notices the leggings— and has a mental list of his favorites— but he doesn’t work up the nerve to comment on them until Jaskier shows up in a pair of galaxy-print leggings and a matching tank top.

“You look…” Eskel doesn’t quite have the words for how Jaskier looks. Or, he doesn’t have any words he should say out loud.

“Out of this world?” Jaskier winks. “You look good too.”

Eskel looks down at the white t-shirt and jeans he’s wearing. “I look how I always look.”

“And you always look good. I like the whole lumberjack aesthetic.”

Eskel blinks. He’s never been accused of having an _aesthetic_ before. “The lumberjack aesthetic?”

“You look like you’re about to go chop some firewood.” Jaskier reaches out and picks off a piece of hay that’s stuck to Eskel’s shoulder. His fingers linger an instant longer than is necessary.

Eskel’s mouth goes dry. “It’s, uh, June. Don’t really need the fireplace.”

From somewhere in the barn, he hears Deidre make a sound that’s somewhere between a snort and a groan.

“No, I guess you don’t.” Jaskier fiddles with the piece of hay, then lets it fall to the ground. “Are you joining us today, Eskel?”

“You know I’m not.”

Jaskier pokes him lightly in the chest. “Someday, I’m going to get you in that tent. Mark my words.”

“We’ll see.”

“Guess we will.” With a grin, Jaskier turns and saunteres towards the tent.

Deidre sticks her head out of the barn. “I was going to put on another pot of coffee, but it’s June. Probably don’t need the hot beverages.”

Eskel can feel his neck growing warm. “You’re fired.”

“No, I’m not. You’d be lost without me.”

Eskel just grunts in a Geralt-like fashion. He can feel the place where Jaskier touched him for the rest of the morning.

***

A week later, Jaskier shows up for yoga in leggings printed with cartoon images of lumberjacks hoisting logs on their shoulders. Eskel doesn’t know what to do with that, so he keeps himself busy in the barn all morning.

***

Having a crush on someone he works with wouldn’t be the end of the world, under normal circumstances. After all, it’s not like Jaskier is Eskel’s employee. He’s not even his coworker; he’s essentially an independent contractor. But Eskel is thirty-five, too damn old to feel his face grow hot every time someone who’s barely out of college smiles at him. Yes, Jaskier flirts with him, but Jaskier seems to flirt with everyone. He’s a good-looking, outgoing man and he knows the effect he has on people. Eskel shouldn’t read into it.

The thing is, Eskel has gotten used to being alone. It’s been well over a decade since his last serious relationship. And he’s not truly alone. Vesemir, Lambert, Aiden, Geralt, Yennefer, Triss, and Ciri come over every Sunday night for dinner, often with Deidre and Renfri joining them. Deidre has become like a little sister to him. He has friends. But he’s gotten used to waking up to an empty bed. He’s gotten used to microwave dinners for one. He’s resigned himself to the knowledge that he will probably spend his life without a partner.

So he needs to stop wondering what Jaskier likes for breakfast when he pours himself a bowl of cereal in the morning. He needs to stop staring at the picture of Jaskier and Lil Bleater on the Downward Goat flier. He needs to stop feeling quietly smug whenever he hears Jaskier complaining to Deidre about yet another disastrous first date. He needs to stop _wanting_ and act like a fucking professional.

Which is easier said than done when he steps out of his house one Sunday afternoon and finds Jaskier crouched down in his driveway, talking to Lil Bleater softly and wearing leggings patterned with multicolored lollipops, paired with a candy pink tank top. At the sight of the cheerful little lollipops, Eskel’s brain heads straight for the gutter.

“Hi, Eskel!” Jaskier looks up at him with a twinkle in his eye that tells Eskel he knows exactly what he’s doing.

“Hi,” Eskel manages to say.

“We had a couple of cancellations today, so there’s plenty of room in the class if you want to join.”

“Wish I could, but my family’s coming over for dinner soon.”

“Oh well, maybe next time?”

“Maybe,” Eskel says. “Have a good class.”

“We always do. Come on, Bleats, your adoring public awaits.” Jaskier waves at Eskel and heads for the tent, with Lil Bleater trotting after him like a loyal lapdog instead of the hellion of a goat she is.

And Eskel goes to get ready for family dinner and try his damnedest not to think about lollipops and other things that he would really like to get his mouth on.

***

As always, the descent of the entire Wolfe clan onto Kaer Morhen Farms is a swirl of chaos. Vesemir arrives first and immediately heads for the grill, followed by Lambert and Aiden. A few minutes later, Geralt’s truck, Roach, pulls up in front of the house. Ciri immediately hops out of the car and makes a beeline for the barn, only pausing long enough to wave at Eskel before she goes to visit the goats.

“See?” Eskel nudges Lambert. “Still the favorite uncle.”

Lambert scoffs. “Only because you have goats. All I have is Aiden.”

“Hey!” Aiden protests.

“You smell better than the goats, babe,” Lambert says.

Aiden shoots his husband an exasperated look. “Soon, all you’re going to have is a houseplant.”

“Neither of you are her favorite,” Geralt tells them. “Triss is her favorite. She has a cat.”

“Oh, fuck that!” Lambert turns to Aiden. “We should get a dog.”

“You worry me,” Aiden says.

Eskel laughs and goes to help Vesemir with the grill. No sooner are the steaks on the grill than he hears a knock on the front door. He frowns. Vesemir, Aiden, Lambert, Yennefer, Ciri, Geralt, and Triss are all here. Deidre and Renfri often join them, but they couldn’t make it this week. He’s not expecting anyone else. Eskel goes to answer the front door and is surprised to find Jaskier standing there, looking sweaty, disheveled, and sunburnt.

“Jaskier?” Eskel has never seen Jaskier looking anything but perfect and is as taken aback by that as he is by the yoga instructor’s unexpected appearance. Jaskier left over an hour ago.

“Hi,” Jaskier says, visibly out of breath. “I’m so sorry to just show up, but Pegasus broke down like four miles down the road and none of the shops I called would send a tow truck out here and then my phone died and—”

“Hey, it’s fine.” Eskel takes a step back to let him in. “Come in.”

“Do you have a phone I could use? I just need to get someone to come get me and then I’ll be out of your hair. I don’t want to interfere with family dinner.”

“Don’t be silly, Jaskier.” Eskel doesn’t realize Yennefer is behind him until his sister-in-law speaks. He looks around to see her smiling downright sweetly, which means she’s up to something. Yennefer has been married to Geralt for over a decade and Eskel still fears her sweet smiles. “We brought extra steaks just in case Lambert tried to help grill.”

“Hey!” Lambert protests from the other room.

“You should stay for dinner,” Yennefer says. “After dinner, Geralt and Vesemir will take a look at your car and see if there’s anything they can do.”

Jaskier’s eyes dart between Eskel and Yennefer. “I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“It’s not an imposition,” she says briskly. “Come meet everyone. Well, you already know Triss and Aiden, so come meet the others.”

Eskel watches as Jaskier trails after her into the kitchen. As soon as they’re out of earshot, he whispers, “Well, fuck.”

***

The thing about the Wolfe family’s Sunday night dinners is that there’s a routine to them. There always has been, ever since Eskel, Geralt, and Lambert were kids. Eskel, his father, and his brothers are all creatures of habit, and those habits have only become more ingrained as they’ve aged and extended their family. Even Lambert, who likes to pretend he’s some kind of agent of chaos, gets cranky if they don’t sit down to eat at exactly six o’clock.

Thirty plus years of routine are apparently no match for Jaskier. Eskel has had the same task at every family dinner since he was old enough to be trusted with a knife: chopping vegetables, a chore he now shares with Ciri. But instead of slicing the mushrooms, broccoli, and cauliflower in front of him, he’s staring down at the cutting board blankly and trying not to focus on the sound of Jaskier’s voice drifting in from the backyard.

“Your boyfriend is trying to help Dad grill,” Lambert comes into the kitchen to tell Eskel.

“Not my boyfriend.”

“Huh, so he wears pants with lollipops on them for anyone?”

“He wasn’t wearing them for me.”

“Sure he wasn’t. Anyway, he just asked Dad if he can have his steak well-done.”

“Fuck.”

“You should go find a way to distract him before Dad gives up grilling forever in despair.”

“Can’t you see I’m busy?” Eskel gestures to the vegetables.

“You may as well go,” Ciri tells him. “I’m doing all the work anyway.”

Lambert snorts.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you to respect your elders?” Eskel asks his niece.

She smiles sweetly up at him. Her sweet smiles are almost as ominous as Yennefer’s. “You’re not elder enough to be getting senile.”

Eskel fights the grin curling his lips. “You remind me more and more of your mother every day.”

“Thank you. Go hang out with your boyfriend.”

“Not my—”

“I’m busy chopping all the vegetables by myself, Uncle Eskel. Can’t talk now.”

Eskel heads outside to find Jaskier standing next to Vesemir, who looks somewhat dazed as Jaskier talks his ear off. As soon as they see Eskel, they both call out to him, Vesemir in tones of relief, Jaskier sounding as chipper as ever.

“Why don’t you go show Jaskier around?” Vesemir asks hopefully. Eskel’s father has a limit to how much chatter he can handle, even from someone he likes. If he didn’t like Jaskier, he already would have told him to fuck off.

“Sure,” Eskel says. “Jaskier, want to see the house?”

Jaskier brightens. “Sure! Nice talking to you, Vesemir.”

Vesemir only grunts in acknowledgement, though there’s a glint in his eye when he looks at Eskel. Eskel purposefully doesn’t meet his father’s gaze, not wanting Vesemir to see his blush.

“Your family is all so nice,” Jaskier says cheerfully as he follows Eskel into the house.

“They have their moments.”

“Nobody warned me that you were all supermodels though.”

“Supermodels?” Eskel gives him a skeptical look.

“Oh, come on, don’t pretend that you haven’t noticed that your family isn’t the most fantastically attractive group of people in Kaedwen. I’ve never seen so many good genes in one house.” Jaskier shoots him a wolfish grin. “Don’t worry, you’re still my favorite.”

Eskel has no idea what the fuck he’s supposed to say to that, but is luckily spared having to think of anything when Jaskier suddenly asks delightedly, “Is that you?”

Eskel turns and sees the photo that Jaskier is pointing at: one of him, Geralt, and Lambert with Vesemir on a camping trip. Eskel about twelve, standing between his brothers with his arms flung over their shoulders while Vesemir stands behind them with one hand on Geralt’s shoulder and the other on Eskel’s. The photo has been there for over two decades now, so long that Eskel forgot it was there.

“Yeah, that’s me,” Eskel says as Jaskier goes to examine it closer.

“You were adorable. Still are, of course.”

Eskel snorts, because “adorable” is the last word he’d use to describe himself. “That was right after Lambert came to live with us. Vesemir took us camping as a bonding experience.”

In the picture, Lambert is seven years old, huddled close to Eskel’s side, a hesitant smile on his face. For those first couple of months, he had trailed after Eskel like an angry, foul-mouthed shadow, terrified of both Vesemir and Geralt. That weekend was the first time Eskel had ever seen him smile.

“You all look alike,” Jaskier says. “Especially you and Geralt.”

Eskel hasn’t had anyone tell him that he looks like Geralt since before he got his scars. “Lambert and I are adopted. I came to live with Vesemir when Geralt was three and I was four. Lambert got adopted eight years later, when he was seven.”

“You all are close.”

“We’re family.”

“That doesn’t always mean anything.” A shadow flickers across Jaskier’s face.

“More photos upstairs, if you want to see them, Jaskier.” Eskel doesn’t realize Geralt is standing behind them until his brother speaks.

“I would love to!” Jaskier says as Eskel turns to glare at Geralt. The bastard just lifts one shoulder in a shrug and looks smug.

Eskel really doesn’t know why his family is like this. Since there’s no getting out of this now, he leads Jaskier up the stairs, showing him the pictures that line the walls— childhood sports games, high school dances, weddings. Jaskier gets a good laugh over the bright green tuxes Eskel and Geralt were forced to wear for Lambert and Aiden’s wedding— not because Lambert is particularly attached to the color green, but because he wanted to be a dick. He coos over the many pictures of Ciri as a toddler, pausing when he gets to a photo of Ciri standing up in Eskel’s lap, pointing at the camera.

“Oh, look at you two,” Jaskier coos.

It’s a good picture of Ciri, because all pictures of Ciri are adorable. It was taken not long after Yennefer and Geralt adopted her, when she was about three, and it’s the first photo that Eskel ever took with her. That’s the only reason it’s still hanging up. In the picture, Eskel’s eyes are somewhat unfocused and bloodshot. The scars on his cheek are fresh, still pink and puffy. Eskel reminds himself that Jaskier has no idea what was going on behind the scenes of this picture, no reason to look at this innocuous picture and immediately think “alcoholic.”

Eskel still lets out a breath when Jaskier moves past the picture, stopping in the doorway to Eskel’s bedroom.

“This is yours?” Jaskier asks.

“Uh, yeah.” Eskel rubs the back of his neck, trying to shove down the feeling that the sight of Jaskier standing outside his bedroom summons up. Jaskier isn’t even in his bedroom, for fuck’s sake. There’s no need for him to be ridiculous about it.

“It suits you.” Jaskier steps inside and looks around.

“It’s just a bedroom.”

“You can tell a lot about a person from their bedroom,” Jaskier says.

“Like what?” Eskel watches as Jaskier walks around the room.

“Well, you’re sentimental.” Jaskier runs his hand over the faded patchwork quilt on this bed. “And you love family. And goats.”

“What gave it away?”

Jaskier chuckles and picks up the little wooden goat figuring on his bedside table, turning it over in his hands.

“Made that in woodshop class in high school,” Eskel says. “Which is why it looks more like a demon than a goat.”

“It’s a very abstract depiction of a goat.”

“You mean shit?”

“You’re just putting words in my mouth here.” Jaskier picks up the book lying on Eskel’s pillow and thumbs through it. “You like to read. And I see you need reading glasses.”

“Getting old sucks. You’ll know in about a decade.”

Jaskier gives him an arch look. “Eskel, how old do you think I am?”

“About Deidre’s age? She said you were in class together last year.”

Jaskier throws his head back and laughs. “Oh, you dear, sweet man. I could kiss you.”

Eskel’s stomach does something funny at that. “Why?”

“I’ll be thirty next month. I have good genes. And apparently a brand of moisturizer that I should continue using. You really thought I was college aged?”

Eskel, who has spent months now thinking that Jaskier was far too young for him, is knocked off kilter by the knowledge that Jaskier is only five years younger than him. “I just assumed.”

“After I graduated from Oxenfurt, I took a gap year that became a gap decade.”

“Oxenfurt?” Oxenfurt Academy is the most prestigious prep school in the Northern Kingdoms, as notable for the prime ministers and CEOs it churns out as it is for the regular scandals that rock the faculty and student body.

Jaskier grimaces. “Yes, and the less said about that, the better. Deidre took pity on me when she saw how badly I was floundering in our Econ class. Getting back into academic life was a struggle for me. She hardly ever calls me ‘old man’ anymore either.”

“Nice of her.”

“That’s our Deidre. A regular sweetheart.”

Eskel chuckles. “So teaching yoga isn’t forever?”

“Oh, hopefully it is. I’m getting the business degree my parents have been trying to get me to get for years, but not because I want to join the family company, but because I’m going to open up my own studio someday. Maybe even a chain of them. I could do the respectable thing, get a desk job, have to wear a tie every day. I don’t think I’d make it a month though.”

“I would miss the leggings.” The words pop out of Eskel’s mouth before he can stop them.

Jaskier’s smile widens. “You like them?”

Eskel clears his throat. “Who wouldn’t?”

There’s only a few feet of space between them. Eskel could close the distance in two strides.

“Glad to see I have an appreciative audience,” Jaskier says, his voice low and throaty.

“I have fucking eyes, Jaskier.”

Jaskier’s smile widens.

“Hey, Eskel!” Lambert shouts up the steps. “I’m not coming up there, because I don’t want to know what the fuck you two are up to, but dinner’s ready.”

“Ah.” Jaskier’s cheeks go pink. “I suppose we should go have dinner.”

Eskel clears his throat. “Probably should.”

“We don’t want your family to think we were up to something untoward up here.”

“Lambert always thinks everyone else is up to something untoward.”

“Guilty conscience?”

“Nah, he has no shame.” Eskel catches himself grinning, then remembers about his scars and turns his face away. “We’re going to have to talk about the well-done steak thing, though.”

Jaskier groans. “I like my meat cooked enough that I can forget it used to bleed, Eskel.”

“Like I said, we’ll talk about it.”

“Vesemir already gave me the lecture, so you can skip it.”

“If you stick around, you’re going to keep getting the damn lecture,” Eskel says, then realizes that he just as much as said he wants Jaskier to stick around. But Jaskier looks so delighted that he can’t bring himself to take it back.

***

Eskel loves his family. Getting adopted by Vesemir as a toddler was the best thing that’s ever happened to him. He doesn’t know what his life would have been like if he’d been raised by his shithead grandfather, but he’s pretty sure it would have been short and unpleasant. He would move mountains for any of them and knows that they would do the same for him.

That doesn’t change the fact that they’re the most unsubtle bunch of busybodies Eskel has ever met. Between shuffling everyone around so that he and Jaskier can sit next to each other and all the significant glances and pointed questions, they may as well be broadcasting their intentions to all of Kaedwen.

“So, Jaskier, what got you into yoga?” Triss asks. It’s a safe question, a harmless question, and Triss instantly becomes Eskel’s favorite member of the family.

“I’d been going to classes for years at a studio in Cidaris, got to know the owner. He was expanding and needed a new instructor and asked if I would be interested in getting certified. And the rest is history. When I moved to Kaedwen a couple of years ago, I kept up with it. It’s a good job. Lots of flexibility—”

Lambert looks like he wants to say something, but is silenced with a glare from his husband.

“—And I meet all kinds of interesting people.” Jaskier glances over at Eskel, who takes a long sip of his iced tea to hide his expression. He notices Jaskier’s gaze lingering on his hands.

“And you go to school in Ard Carraigh?” Vesemir asks.

Jaskier looks startled, like he was caught deep in thought. “Yep, getting my business degree. I’m in my second year.”

“You live in the city? That’s quite a hike from here.”

“It’s not terrible. The drive gives me time to enjoy the scenery.” Jaskier’s knee brushes Eskel’s under the table. Eskel swallows hard.

“Student housing?”

Eskel frowns at his father. He’s not sure why Vesemir cares so much about Jaskier’s living arrangements.

“Gods, no.” Jaskier chuckles. “I didn’t want to live with eighteen year olds when I was eighteen. No, I share a flat with my friend, Priscilla.”

“Is she your girlfriend?” Ciri asks with the subtlety of a sledgehammer. Eskel takes another long sip of tea.

“No, just a friend. I don’t have a girlfriend. Or a boyfriend, for that matter.”

“Neither does Uncle Eskel,” she says, glancing over at Lambert, who looks delighted.

Eskel glares at Lambert, who he’s certain bribed Ciri to say that. “Triss, you brought pie, right?” he asks, even though Triss has brought pie every fucking week since she and Yennefer started dating. “Who wants pie?”

Jaskier looks at him with laughing eyes, a wide smile on his face. He should look out of place in his leggings and bright-colored shirt when surrounded by Eskel’s family. He shouldn’t fit in at all. But something about the sight of him sitting at their old, scarred dining room table between Eskel and Ciri seems completely right, like he’s been here a thousand times before. The thought leaves Eskel feeling warm and flustered.

***

“So, anything to be done?” Eskel asks Geralt, who is under Jaskier’s junk bucket of a car, poking around.

“Hm. We could torch it.”

Standing next to Eskel, Jaskier squawks in outrage. “Excuse me, I’ll have you know that this was a quality vehicle back in its day.”

“No it wasn’t,” Geralt says. “You know how many fucking recalls this model has on it?”

“Ah.” Jaskier rubs the back of his neck. “No, I never read the notices they send me.”

Geralt makes a disgusted noise.

“Look, I just need it to last me a little while longer until I can afford a new car,” Jaskier says. “Anything you can do that doesn’t involve a flamethrower?”

Geralt slides out from under the car. “Wouldn’t use a flamethrower. Your oil’s leaking. All it would take is a match for this thing to go up.”

Jaskier flashes him what may be the most impressive pair of puppy dog eyes Eskel has ever seen. They could give Ciri a run for her money. “Please?”

Geralt sighs. “The responsible thing would be to send it to the junkyard in the sky.”

“You can ask any of my old teachers. I’m not very responsible.”

“Hm, your funeral. I’ll call the shop I used to work at and have them come give you a tow,” Geralt says. “I’ll wait with the car. Eskel will drive you home.”

Eskel shoots his brother an incredulous look. Geralt just looks blandly back at him.

“I don’t want to be a bother.” Jaskier turns to puppy dog eyes on Eskel.

Eskel clears his throat. “You’re not a bother at all.”

Geralt makes a sound that sounds somewhere between a laugh and a snort. Eskel glares at him again, to no effect.

Jaskier says farewell to the car— which is called Pegasus, of all things— and climbs into the passenger seat of Eskel’s truck. “Thank you,” he says as Eskel pulls away.

“It’s not a problem.”

“No, not just for the ride. For everything. You could have let me make a phone call and sent me on my way tonight, but you let me stay for dinner. You and your family were nice to me. Your brother is going to help me get my car fixed.”

Eskel shrugs. “Anyone would have done it.”

“Not necessarily. You’re a good man, Eskel. One of the best I’ve ever met.”

Eskel doesn’t know what to do with that, mostly because it’s categorically untrue and also because what the fuck is he supposed to do with that?

“It’s nice how much you and your family like each other,” Jaskier says after a long moment of near-unbearable silence.

“They’re family. Got to love them.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to like them. My family sure as hell never had big family dinners.”

“Do they live around here?”

“No, they’re back in Lettenhove, on the other side of the Continent. We get along much better when I only see them when I go home for Yule every year.”

The thought makes Eskel sad. He can’t imagine not having his family in his life. For better or for worse, they’re his. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Jaskier shrugs. “My parents aren’t bad people. They’re not even bad parents. They just had very specific ideas of what they wanted in their son, and none of those ideas involved me being a thirty year old bisexual yoga instructor with no college diploma and shitty credit.”

“They’re lucky to have you.”

“Maybe.” Jaskier sounds wistful. “And your family is lucky to have you.”

They weren’t always, but now isn’t the time or the place to bring that up. The rest of the drive back to Ard Carraigh is peaceful, with Jaskier singing softly along to the radio. He has a shockingly lovely voice. When they pull up in front of a boxy brick apartment building, Jaskier turns to Eskel with a smile.

“This is my stop,” he says. “Thank you again, Eskel.”

Eskel swallows, suddenly aware of how little space there is between them right now, how easy it would be to lean over and kiss him. It’s Jaskier that leans over, his lips brushing over Eskel’s cheek. Eskel shivers at the feeling of soft, warm lips on his scars. He could turn his mouth and capture Jaskier’s mouth with his. He could do all the things he’s been fantasizing about for months now.

“Goodnight,” Jaskier murmurs, then he slips out of the truck. 

Eskel’s heart is thudding in his throat all the way back to the farm.

***

When Jaskier walks into his apartment, he finds his roommate, Priscilla, sitting on the couch with Renfri and Deidre.

“Deidre Ademeyn!” He points at her. “We need to have a talk.”

Deidre looks at him with wide eyes. “Whatever it is, I didn’t do it.”

“I know, it’s what you didn’t do that’s the problem.” Jaskier plants his hands on his hips and fixes her with his best approximation of a stern look, which he imagines probably looks more like constipation than sternness. “How is it that in the months I’ve been pressing you for details about Eskel, you left out the fact that he comes from the most attractive family on the Continent?”

“You’ve met Triss, Yennefer, and Aiden,” Renfri points out.

“Yes, but they were just the tip of the iceberg, apparently, because there wasn’t a single adult at that family dinner I wouldn’t have climbed like a mountain and then thanked for the privilege afterwards.”

Priscilla snorts. “Gods, you need to get laid, Jask. Is this why you didn’t want me to come get you? So you could hang out with your farmer and his super attractive family?”

“I didn’t want to be a bother.”

“Well, that would be a first.”

He sticks his tongue out at her and goes to flop dramatically into the armchair.

“So, did you make a move?” Deidre asks.

“Of course not. I don’t mix business with pleasure, you know that.”

“If you’re worried about what happened with Valdo happening again, you shouldn’t be,” Priscilla says. “The problem wasn’t that you mixed business with pleasure. It’s that you mixed pleasure with Valdo.”

Jaskier grimaces at the memory of the fallout of that relationship, which left Jaskier unable to find a spot at any yoga studio on the eastern side of the Continent. Valdo Marx was a grade-A doucheweasel, but he was a well-connected doucheweasel.

“Jask, I’m begging you,” Deidre says. “Just do something about it, so I can stop having to watch the two of you flirt awkwardly with each other.”

“I’ve never flirted awkwardly in my life.”

Renfri guffaws. “You wore leggings with lumberjacks on them.”

“I was trying out some subliminal messaging. It was a failed experiment.”

“You could have just worn leggings with ‘Fuck me’ written across the ass.”

Jaskier sniffs. “You young people have lost all sense of romance.”

Priscilla tosses a throw pillow at him. “You’re wearing leggings with lollipops on them.”

“These are cute leggings!”

“I swear to the gods, Jaskier,” Deidre says. “Just ask him out already, or I’m going to lock the two of you in the barn.”

“Seduction takes time, Deidre.”

“Melitele’s tits, we’re going to be putting up with this until he’s eighty,” Renfri grumbles. “He’ll be traipsing around in see-through leggings, waiting for Eskel to make a move.”

“Huh.” Jaskier chews on his lower lip, considering. “See-through leggings. Not a bad idea.”

*** 

Nothing really changes between Jaskier and Eskel after the family dinner, besides Jaskier asking after Eskel’s family every time they see each other and everyone giving Eskel a hard time for not inviting Jaskier back. Eskel ignores their good-natured jabs and focuses on the upcoming autumn, which will bring with it Deidre’s latest scheme— a Fall Festival that will probably be lucrative, but a lot of damn work. He’s busy, too busy to spend time worrying about the leggings Jaskier is wearing.

So when he wakes up with a terrible pain in his lower back about a month after the family dinner, his first reaction is: I don’t fucking have time for this. He gets up, pops some aspirin, and tries to continue with business as usual.

Three days later, he can barely bend over.

“What’s wrong with you?” Deidre asks him when the simple act of picking up a bucket of feed causes Eskel to grimace in pain.

“Want the list?”

“I’d say yes, but I get off at 5.”

It’s 10 AM. Eskel wonders what it would be like to have an employee who respects him. Probably real fucking boring. “Hurt my back somehow.”

“You should go get a massage.”

The thought of some stranger rubbing oil all over him makes Eskel’s skin crawl. “No thanks.”

“Have you tried stretching?”

“It will go away on its own.”

“Sure, because waiting for a problem to go away is always the best solution,” Deidre says in a carefully patient voice that makes Eskel think of his kindergarten teacher. “If only we had someone here five days a week who is an expert at stretching.”

“Don’t think yoga’s going to help a sore back.”

“Why not? Half the people in Jaskier’s class have a bad shoulder or a bum foot or something. If yoga helps them, it would probably help you.”

“I’ll think about it.”

Eskel doesn’t need to be looking at Deidre to know she rolls her eyes.

***

Eskel doesn’t get a chance to think about it, because on Wednesday night, the Wine and Yoga evening is wrapping up when there’s a knock on Eskel’s front door. Eskel, who typically stays away from the Wine and Yoga nights—at nine years sober, seeing other people drink doesn’t bother him much, but he chooses not to risk it— answers reluctantly, expecting to find someone looking for a bathroom or needing a wine bottle opener. Instead, he finds Jaskier, wearing a pair of light blue yoga pants decorated with images of peaches.

Fuck, this is how Eskel dies.

“I hear you’re having back problems,” Jaskier says by way of greeting.

Eskel groans. “Deidre?”

“And Triss, Yennefer, and Aiden. Four separate people told me tonight that you might be in need of some private yoga lessons. Come on, then.”

Eskel feels his face go hot. “I told you, yoga isn’t my thing.”

“It doesn’t have to be your thing,” Jaskier says. “It will just be me and you. No one is around to judge you. Except for Lil Bleater, and I think she would do that anyway.”

Eskel snorts and looks down at his loose-fitting pajama bottoms and t-shirt. “Not really dressed for it.”

“You’re dressed just fine. Though I do have an extra pair of leggings in the car, if you want to try them on.”

“Thanks, but no thanks.”

“Shame.” Jaskier’s gaze flickers over him. “I’d like to see you in them.”

Eskel’s mind briefly fills with static, which must be how Jaskier manages to convince him. Somehow, he finds himself walking towards the tent with Jaskier. It’s a clear night, with the nip in the air that tells him that autumn is quickly approaching. The tent is empty, save for Jaskier’s bright purple, sparkly yoga mat still set up in the front of the tent, with a second yoga mat with the Downward Goat logo on it next to it.

“Stand there.” Jaskier points to the Downward Goat yoga mat. “And take off your shoes.”

Eskel complies. The yoga mat is soft and slightly squishy under his feet. “What now?”

“Where exactly are you in pain?”

“Lower back.”

Jaskier nods, going to stand on his own yoga mat. “We carry a lot of tension in our backs, especially people who do a lot of heavy lifting like you. Let’s start with an easy triangle pose.”

Eskel doesn’t know what a triangle pose is, but it doesn’t sound easy. Still, he follows Jaskier’s lead, spreading his legs wide and holding his arms out. He’s very aware of his bulk compared to Jaskier’s lean frame— his broad shoulders, his bulky arms, his belly that’s just a bit rounder than he would like. Jaskier is all grace and poise. Eskel… isn’t.

“I can tell that you’re getting lost in your own head,” Jaskier says. “Try to clear your mind. Focus on your breathing.”

Eskel doesn’t know how anyone is supposed to clear their mind when Jaskier is in front of them, looking absolutely delicious in those leggings, but he does his best. If he finds himself craving peaches, well, Jaskier doesn’t have to know.

“How does that feel?” Jaskier asks, voice low and soothing.

“Fine.” Eskel can feel a stretch in his back, but it’s not painful exactly.

“Good. Get down on your hands and knees.”

Eskel swallows thickly.

Jaskier’s smile has a wicked edge to it, like he knows exactly what he’s doing. “We’re going to try some cat-cow pose.”

Eskel lets Jaskier talk him through the pose, which feels a bit silly, but he’s certainly not complaining when it involves Jaskier sticking his ass in the air. Jaskier talks him through a few more poses, until he has Eskel lie on his back and do a bridge pose. Eskel is so focused on the pose that he doesn’t notice that Jaskier is approaching until the other man is kneeling next to him.

“May I?” Jaskier asks.

“Sure.” Eskel isn’t sure what he’s agreeing too, but Jaskier is close enough that Eskel can feel the warmth of his body and smell the spice of his aftershave.

Jaskier slides his hand under Eskel’s back and lifts him up a couple of centimetres, increasing the stretch. “How does that feel?”

Jaskier’s fingers are surprisingly long and strong. “Nice.”

“Good,” Jaskier says huskily. “How’s your back?”

“A little better.” It’s still sore, but the pain is less immediate.

“Try doing this every day for a week. If it doesn’t help, you should go see a doctor. Don’t make that face. You’re at an age where you really shouldn’t mess around with back issues.”

“You see, now that I know you’re not that much younger than me, that isn’t that offensive.”

Jaskier chuckles. “I think that’s enough for the night. You don’t want to overdo it.”

Eskel feels a pang of disappointment as Jaskier withdraws his hand. When he sits up, he finds Jaskier watching him with a little smile curling his lip.

“You’re wrong, you know,” Jaskier says. “Yoga is absolutely your thing.”

Eskel snorts. “Hardly. I can’t move like you can.”

“Different bodies have different capabilities. There’s nothing wrong with that. I bet you can perform feats of strength I could never dream of.”

Eskel snorts. “Feats of strength?”

“You know, like lifting hay bales and other farmer-ish things.”

“You haven’t spent much time on farms, have you, Jaskier?”

“Eskel, do I look like someone who spends a lot of time on farms?”

Eskel grimaces. “I feel like that’s a trick question.”

Jaskier laughs. “I do like it here, though. It’s peaceful. It always amazes me how many stars you can see outside the city. One of these nights, I’m going to be so busy looking at them, I’m going to drive right off the road.”

“Don’t do that. Your car may actually disintegrate on impact, according to Geralt.”

“I’m not a car expert, but that seems unlikely.”

Eskel chuckles, watching as Jaskier starts to roll up his yoga mat. The thought of Jaskier leaving sends a surge of regret through Eskel and he finds himself saying, “I could make tea, if you want to stick around for a bit.”

Jaskier turns to him with a brilliant smile. “I would like that.”

***

As he brews the tea, Eskel realizes that he really didn’t think this through. This isn’t a big Sunday dinner with his entire family here to act as a buffer between him and Jaskier. This is one-on-one time, with no company except for the goats. The thought makes him feel a little panicky. What if they don’t have anything to talk about? What if Eskel says the wrong thing? What if Eskel has been reading the signs wrong, and Jaskier isn’t interested in him at all?

The whistling of the kettle jerks him out of his own head. Eskel takes a deep breath, trying to get himself out of his own head, and pours two mugs of tea. He finds Jaskier sitting on the front porch. The night is growing chilly, so Eskel lent Jaskier one of his sweatshirts. It’s a bit too big on Jaskier, dwarfing his slender frame, and the sight of it causes a complicated flutter in Eskel’s lower belly.

“Have I mentioned that I love that you have a front porch?” Jaskier says as Eskel hands him one of the mugs. “It’s such a farmer thing to have a front porch. Do you sit out here, smoking a pipe and watching the cows graze in the pastures?”

“Not much of a smoker. And we don’t have cows.” Eskel settles down in the chair next to Jaskier. “But I do like to sit out here. It’s a good place to think.”

“Everywhere here is a good place to think.” Jaskier stretches out his long legs in front of him, looking up at the sky. “Don’t get me wrong, I love Ard Carraigh. I just like how quiet it is out here. I can hear myself think. Though I doubt the takeout options are as varied in the country.”

“There’s a pizza place about twenty minutes away.”

“Now, that’s just tragic.”

There’s a beat of comfortable silence. Or, it would be comfortable, if Eskel weren’t wracking his brain for what to say next. He’s usually fine with silences, but something about Jaskier makes him want to be quick and witty and full of one-liners.

“You said you lived in Cidaris before you moved out here?” It’s not the most rousing conversation starter, but it should be safe.

“I did. I’ve lived all over, actually. Novigrad, Vizima, Oxenfurt, Cintra for a while, I was trying to find myself.”

“Did you find yourself?”

Jaskier snorts. “Gods, no. Maybe by the time I’m forty.”

“What brought you to Ard Carraigh?” It’s a decent-sized city, one of the largest in the northeast, but it’s no Vizima or Novigrad.

“I couldn’t get a job at any yoga studio in Cidaris, so I decided to go back to school, and University of Ard Carraigh offered me a scholarship.” There’s a forced cheer in Jaskier’s voice.  
Eskel doesn’t say anything. He feels like there’s a story there, but he also knows about having a story you don’t want to tell anyone.

Jaskier sighs. “The yoga instructor I worked for, Valdo, is kind of a big deal in the Cidaris yoga scene and he has plenty of friends in Novigrad and Vizima.”

“There are big deals in yoga?”

“You have no idea. He and I became friendly when I started working for him, and we eventually started dating. When it ended badly, he fired me and blacklisted me. I couldn’t find a job anywhere, so I decided it was time for a fresh start. Valdo was only the last in a series of terrible life decisions.”

“Well, no matter how it happened, I’m glad you ended up out here.” Eskel hesitates. “And this Valdo sounds like an ass.”

“Oh, he absolutely is. I wasted four years of my life on that tool. I really have no idea what the fuck I was thinking.”

“We all make mistakes.” Eskel shrugs. “I’m not going to judge anyone else for their shitty life choices.”

Jaskier turns to him with a question in his eyes.

Eskel could change the subject. He would dearly like to change the subject, but if this thing with Jaskier— whatever it is— is going to continue, he knows he needs to be upfront. “During college, I developed a bit of a drinking problem.”

“A bit of a drinking problem” is a massive understatement, but Eskel doesn’t like going into the full details of how bad it got. He likes thinking of those years as little as possible.

Jaskier doesn’t say anything, clearly waiting for Eskel to continue.

“I was a mess for most of my early twenties,” Eskel says. “My boyfriend, Coën, got sick of my shit eventually and left me. We’d been together since high school. After that, it got worse. I was pretty much a wreck. Once a year or so, I’d try to quit. I managed to quit for a whole month for Geralt and Yennefer’s wedding. But I always slipped back into old habits.”

Jaskier still doesn’t say anything. There’s no judgement on his face, but also no pity. He’s just watching Eskel with a thoughtful expression.

“I could be a real asshole when I drank.” When Jaskier makes a disbelieving noise, Eskel smiles without humor. “No, I was mean. About ten years ago, I got in a bar fight. I don’t even remember what set it off. All I know is the other guy broke a beer bottle on my face. That’s how I got my scars.”

Jaskier sucks in a breath. “Gods.”

“And you would think that would have been the wake-up call I needed, but it wasn’t.”

“So what happened?” Jaskier asks quietly.

“Geralt and Yennefer adopted Ciri. She was three years old, an absolute terror, and I adored her more than anything. And then one night Yennefer had a work emergency while Geralt was working. Vesemir, Lambert, and Aiden were all away. She hadn’t met Triss yet. She had no one else to call, so she brought Ciri to work with her. Imagine a little three year old in the boardroom as Yennefer was yelling at a bunch of idiots who had fucked up a business deal. Yennefer was telling this story one night at dinner, and I realized she hadn’t called me. She never even thought about it. And she was right not to, because I had no business looking after a child. Checked myself into rehab the next day and I've been sober for nine years now.”

Jaskier is quiet for a long moment. Eskel can barely breathe.

“Sorry,” he says. “I just… you should know. It doesn’t bother me to see other people drink most of the time if it’s just a couple other people. But I can’t go to bars or clubs. Can’t really do parties either. I can—”

“Eskel.” Jaskier’s hand closes around Eskel’s. Eskel stares down at those long, slender fingers, a sharp contrast to his own meaty, clumsy hands. “Thank you for telling me.”

“Just thought you should know,” Eskel says lamely. “If you… if you want to keep spending time around here.” He can’t quite work himself up to adding, “With me.”

“Of course I do.” Jaskier squeezes his hand. “You were sick, Eskel, and you got better. You did what was best for you and your family. For Ciri. There’s no shame in that. You’re a good man.”

“You keep saying that.”

“And it keeps being true.”

Silence hangs between them for a moment. It’s only then that Eskel remembers that he hasn’t touched his tea. He takes a long sip of it to wet his dry mouth.

“I would take someone like you— someone who made mistakes, realized they were making mistakes, and took steps to change— over someone like Valdo, who blames everything that goes wrong on the people around him, any day.”

“I’m not Valdo.” Eskel has never met this Valdo— doesn’t even know what he looks like— and the very name makes him angry. “If I care about someone and it ends badly, I don’t try to ruin their lives. I’m friends with Coën again now that I’m sober. I went to his wedding last year.”

“See? I was right. You’re good.”

“I feel like you’re going to take anything I say as evidence of that.”

“What can I say? I like being right. Especially about important things.”

From somewhere in the distance, a fox shrieks. Jaskier nearly drops his tea.

A laugh bubbles up in Eskel’s chest, breaking some of the tension. “You really are a city boy, aren’t you?”

“There are less terrifying animal noises in the city, yes.”

“That was a fox. They’re only terrifying if you’re a rabbit.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” Jaskier shudders.

“You should come camping with me and my brothers sometime,” Eskel says. “By the end of the night, you’ll know what every animal in the woods sounds like.”

Jaskier leans forward, a glint in his eye. “Eskel, I like you so much.”

Eskel’s breath catches in his throat.

“I can’t put into words how much I like you, Eskel. You’re incredible.” Jaskier looks deep into his eyes. “But I can promise you one thing, you are never going to get me to sleep on the ground and shit in the woods.”

Eskel could come up with a pithy response to that, but he’s too busy laughing.

***

Jaskier staying for tea after Wednesday night yoga becomes a weekly ritual. They sit on the porch and discuss everything from Jaskier’s brief time in a band in college to the time Eskel nearly got trampled by a cow to a comprehensive list of all the pranks Eskel and Lambert have played on each other over the last two decades. Getting to know Jaskier better does nothing to alleviate Eskel’s crush. The other man is funny and smart and adorable; Eskel feels himself falling a little bit harder every night they spend talking on the porch together.

As summer slides into fall, preparations ramp up for Kaer Morhen Farms’ first ever Fall Festival. Since space heaters can only do so much against the brutal Kaedweni winters, this season’s last session of Downward Goat will be held during the festival. Eskel is trying very hard not to think about it.

“It’s now or never,” Deidre tells him as the festival approaches.

Eskel, who is busy organizing supplies for the pumpkin carving contest, just raises an eyebrow at her. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“For you to ask Jaskier out,” she says.

“It’s not like he won’t be back in the spring.”

“Oh, good, so you’re just going to make the rest of us suffer an entire winter of you two pining?”

“I’m not pining,” Eskel grumbles. “No one is pining.”

“Mm hm.”

He frowns at her. “Worry about your own love life, Deidre.”

“I don’t need to worry about my love life, because Renfri and I communicate with each other and I didn’t spend an entire summer longing for her. What are you waiting for, Eskel?”

“Jaskier’s a friend,” Eskel says. “I don’t know if he wants any more.”

“Melitele’s tits, how are you simultaneously one of the smartest and the most clueless people I’ve ever met?”

“You know what, go muck out the stables.”

“Already did.” She makes a face at him and leaves.

After that, Eskel can’t help but think of the Fall Festival as an ending. The end of summer, the end of seeing Jaskier’s smiling face— and his incredible ass— five times a week, the end of any chance Eskel has of getting together with him. When the day finally comes, Eskel feels a strange hollowness in his gut, a sense that he’s squandered the last few months.

The Fall Festival is Deidre’s brainchild, replete with goat yoga, a petting zoo, pumpkin carving contests, face painting, a hot apple cider stand, and a bake sale. For most of the morning, Eskel is so busy that he hardly has time to think about Jaskier. As he runs around, making sure that everything is going smoothly, he only occasionally finds himself scanning the crowd for a pair of brightly colored yoga pants.

Eskel briefly gets distracted when Ciri, who is helping Renfri with the face painting, insists on drawing a jack-o’-lantern on his cheek. Given that her enthusiasm for art far outstrips her talent, he’s not sure how much his face decoration actually looks like a jack-o’-lantern, but she’s so happy that Eskel doesn’t care one way or another. He then gets talked into buying a pumpkin muffin from the baked sale. By the time he just happens to make his way over to the Downward Goat tent, class is well underway.

Jaskier is dressed downright sedately for him, in a maroon pair of leggings decorated with images of fall leaves and a bright orange tank top. Mid-downward dog, he looks up and sees Eskel standing in the opening of the tent. He stammers over his words, briefly losing his train of thought, and Eskel feels a blush rising to his cheeks that matches the pink staining Jaskier’s. Warmth spreads through Eskel’s chest.

He’s going to miss this, he realizes. In the months since Deidre came to Eskel with the idea for goat yoga, Jaskier has become such a part of his daily life that he hardly remembers what life was like before. He’ll miss the putter of Jaskier’s shitty car pulling up the drive, Jaskier’s brilliant smile whenever he sees Eskel, their late night talks on the porch. 

Eskel doesn’t want this to end. He doesn’t want to fuck things up with Jaskier by pushing for something that the other man doesn’t want, but he also doesn’t want Jaskier to walk out the door and not be back until May. Winters are long in Kaedwen; who knows what will have happened by springtime? Jaskier could find someone else, someone who isn’t terrified to make the first move.

Eskel lingers until the class is finished. As he stands by the doorway, trying to look inconspicuous as the students filter out, a petite blonde woman comes striding up to him and holds out her hand to shake. “You must be Eskel! I’m Priscilla, Jaskier’s roommate.”

“Hi,” Eskel says, taking her hand.

She pumps it with surprising vigor. “Jaskier has told me so much about you.”

“Has he?”

“Oh, trust me, when he likes someone, he never shuts up about it. Please do us all a favor and seal the deal, so we can talk about something other than how he wants to climb you like a mountain.”

Eskel has a sudden coughing fit.

“Priscilla!” Jaskier appears at her elbow, wearing a somewhat nervous-looking smile. “You’ve met Eskel.”

“I have, despite your best efforts.” Priscilla smiles up at him innocently. “Hope you brought your climbing gear, Jask.”

Jaskier’s face turns an interesting shade of purple.

“Nice to meet you, Eskel!” Priscilla sails away, still smiling.

Jaskier and Eskel stare at each other for a long moment.

“Do I want to know what she said to you?” Jaskier asks.

Eskel clears his throat. “Probably not.”

“Ah.” Jaskier shifts his yoga mat from one arm to another.

“I take it that she and Deidre get along?” Eskel asks.

“They’re the best of friends.”

“Makes sense.”

Lil Bleater runs up and headbutts Jaskier in the thigh, providing a welcome distraction. He bends down to scratch her nose, smiling up at Eskel. “That is a lovely… what is that, a beach ball on your face?”

“Think it’s supposed to be a jack o’-lantern. Ciri painted it.”

“It’s fetching.”

Eskel cocks an eyebrow. “Is it?”

“Well, you could put pretty much anything on your face, and I would think it was fetching.” Jaskier grimaces. “That was terrible, wasn’t it?”

Eskel nods, trying to look solemn and failing. “It was.”

“I promise, I’m normally a better flirt than this.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“It’s just, I think I’ve been too subtle lately. I’m trying to correct that.”

“Subtle,” Eskel echoes, arching an eyebrow.

“Well, subtle for me.” Lil Bleater runs off to terrorize the public and Jaskier straightens up. “Can I buy you a hot apple cider? I know a place.”

Eskel looks into those blue eyes and feels his heart start to beat faster. “I’d like that.”

The young woman manning the hot apple cider stand is a friend of Deidre’s whose name Eskel doesn’t know, but who must know him, because she gives him and Jaskier a significant look. Excellent, apparently all of Kaedwen knows how romantically hopeless Eskel is. Apple ciders in hand, they weave their way through the crowds of families running around.

“This turned out great,” Jaskier says.

“Deidre worked hard on it.”

“And so did you.” Jaskier bumps him lightly with his hip. Eskel feels the simple touch through his entire body.

Eskel shrugs. “I’m just here for the farm. This—” He gestures around. “Isn’t my type of thing, not really. But we were struggling real bad at the beginning of the spring and this ended up being our most profitable year since I took over. So if this kind of stuff is what we have to do to stay in business, then I can live with it.”

“Like goat yoga?”

Eskel looks over at Jaskier with a smile. “No, I’m pretty happy about goat yoga.”

“Me too,” Jaskier says. “You know, when Deidre brought it up, I thought the idea sounded ridiculous. But then I looked up the farm and I saw a picture of you and I realized as soon as I saw you that you were someone I wanted to know.”

Eskel is caught somewhere between embarrassment and incredulity. “Why?”

“I think you know the answer to that.”

Eskel stops dead, oblivious to the people around them, and turns to face Jaskier. The other man is watching him with a hopeful expression.

“Deidre always talked about her boss who treated her like family when no one else did, who was kind and funny and smart, and then I saw your picture and I knew every word she said was true. You just radiate goodness, Eskel. And once I got to know you, I never wanted to stop getting to know you.”

Eskel can’t speak.

“I know we’re done with yoga for the year,” Jaskier says. “But I don’t want to be done with… well, with whatever this thing is between us.”

“What is this thing between us?” Eskel manages to croak.

Jaskier’s tongue darts over his lower lip. “I was hoping you could tell me.”

Eskel’s eyes go to Jaskier’s mouth. “I’m not good with big, romantic speeches. But I like you, Jaskier. I’ve liked you since the first time I met you. And I don’t want you to stop coming around. Lil Bleater would miss you.”

“Well, we can’t disappoint Lil Bleater.” Jaskier’s lips quirk up at the corners.

“Sure can’t.” Emboldened by that smile, Eskel takes a step closer. “You make me happy. Happier than I’ve been in a long time. I want you in my life in any way you want to be in it. I just want—”

Jaskier kisses him. He tastes like apples and cinnamon and Eskel could spend all day kissing him. Their lips move softly together, almost tentatively as they learn each other’s mouths. When Jaskier pulls away, Eskel instantly finds himself aching for more.

“Was that okay?” Jaskier asks, sounding breathless.

Eskel swallows. “That was more than okay.”

He looks around and sees that quite a few people are looking at them, including some familiar faces.

“Fucking finally!” Lambert calls from where Ciri is painting a very lopsided jack o’-lantern on his face, heedless of the small children surrounding him. Several parents give him dirty looks and drag their children away. Ciri’s nose is wrinkled in disgust. Yennefer, Geralt, and Aiden are laughing while Geralt hands Aiden a handful of crowns.

“Looks like we may be causing a scene,” Jaskier murmurs.

Eskel, who normally hates being stared at, can’t bring himself to care. “That was a long time coming.”

“I really don’t know what we were waiting for.”

“Neither do I.”

“I was about to buy sheer leggings, is that’s what it was going to take to get you to make a move.”

Eskel’s mouth goes dry at that mental picture and all he can say is, “ _Hngh._ ”

Jaskier laughs. “Look, I was getting desperate.”

Eskel looks down at Jaskier’s legs. “I would still like to see those sheer leggings.”

“Well, maybe if you play your cards right.”

“What’s playing my cards right?”

“Kissing me again, for starters.”

So Eskel does.

***

Eskel has no idea what people are supposed to do on dates. He hasn’t dated a lot in the years since he and Coën broke up. Before he got sober, his love life consisted solely of drunken hookups. Since then, there was his brief, humiliating foray into online dating, as well as the equally humiliating time Triss tried to set him up with a coworker of hers, who spent the entire date openly staring at Eskel’s scars. None of those experiences are something to model his first date with Jaskier on.

Eskel calls Geralt, who has always been a secret romantic at heart.

“I have no idea,” his brother says. “Yenn and I never really went on dates.”

“What about your first date?”

“We met at an orgy.”

Eskel is very glad this is a phone call, so Geralt can’t see his gobsmacked expression. “I thought a friend set you two up.”

Geralt’s quiet for a moment. “Technically, that’s true.”

“I really don’t want any more details than that.” Eskel rubs his forehead. “What about Triss and Yennefer? What was their first date?”

“They also met at an orgy.”

“Fucking hells, Geralt.”

Lambert is no more help than Geralt. “Don’t take him to a movie,” he tells Eskel. “That’s lame.”

“I was thinking about bowling.”

“Fuck, Eskel, do you like this guy or not?”

Eskel snorts. “Going on a hike?”

“Jaskier doesn’t strike me as an outdoorsman. He’d probably turn an ankle.”

Eskel can’t argue with that. “Maybe I’ll just take him to dinner.”

“Boring.”

“Thanks for your help, Lamb,” Eskel says dryly.

“Any time. What are brothers for?”

In the end, Eskel decides to invite Jaskier over for dinner. He’s always been a decent cook, and that’s the kind of skill he feels like he should show off. And he can’t deny the appeal of having Jaskier in close proximity to his bedroom. He plans a simple, but nice meal— vegetable soup with a loaf of bread.

The reality is not so simple.

“I’m going to sell you to a glue factory,” he tells Lil Bleater, who is unrepentant. He’s not sure how the goat managed to find her way into the house— his only guess is when he went outside to get some firewood for the fireplace— but the cutting board is on the floor and all the vegetables that he just chopped for the stew are gone. 

“What the fuck am I supposed to feed Jaskier now?” he asks Lil Bleater, who has no good suggestions.

He glances at the clock. Jaskier is supposed to be here in ten minutes, but maybe he has time to run to the store really quick and grab—

There’s a knock at the door. Fuck.

Eskel takes a deep breath and goes to answer the door. He finds Jaskier standing on the front porch, holding a tray of brownies and smiling. When Lil Bleater runs to greet him, he looks delighted.

“Bleats, what are you doing outside of the barn?” He hands Eskel the brownies and bends to greet her.

“Causing trouble.” Despite his annoyance with the goat, Eskel can’t stop himself from smiling.

“Our Lil Bleater?” Jaskier looks up at him with wide eyes. “That doesn’t sound like her at all.”

Eskel snorts. “Our vegetable soup no longer has any vegetables.”

“Lil Bleater.” Jaskier cups the goat’s face in his hands. “If you wanted to join us for dinner, all you had to do was ask.”

“I hope you like bread,” Eskel says. “Because that’s all there is left.”

“I love bread. Especially when it’s served to me by a handsome man.”

Eskel grimaces. “Sorry, I don’t even know how she got in the fucking house. I left the kitchen for five minutes and—”

Jaskier stands up and kisses him. It’s a slow, sweet kiss and when they pull away, Jaskier whispers, “Doing that again is all I’ve been able to think about for the past week.”

Eskel swallows. “You’re wearing jeans.”

Jaskier’s grin widens. “Did you think I lived in leggings?”

“Kind of, yeah.”

“Alas, no.” Jaskier gives a little wiggle. “Sorry to disappoint you.”

“I’m not disappointed.” In fact, Eskel thinks Jaskier looks damn good in jeans. Though he thinks Jaskier would look damn good in anything. “You look fantastic.”

“So do you.”

Eskel’s lips twitch. “Like a lumberjack?”

Jaskier grimaces. “Please don’t remind me of my terrible past flirting attempts.”

“It worked on me,” Eskel says.

“I thought that was the leggings.”

“It was the whole package.” Eskel pulls Jaskier into another kiss. He’s pretty sure he could forget dinner and spend the whole night kissing Jaskier.

“Glad to hear it,” Jaskier says breathlessly when they pull away. “Now, what is this I hear about bread?”

They end up sitting in front of the fireplace and eating the bread with goat cheese and honey.

“This is nice,” Jaskier says, licking honey off his fingers.

Eskel tries really hard not to let the sight of Jaskier’s tongue give him ideas. He fails. “Sorry again about the soup.”

“You don’t need to apologize to me. These things happen.”

“Yeah, but I promised you dinner.”

“And you’re serving me a lovely dinner. If I were at home, I’d probably be eating frozen burritos or boxed mac n’ cheese.”

Eskel cocks an eyebrow. “Please tell me that’s not all you eat.”

“Well, it’s not all I eat. I’m also partial to Spaghetti-O’s.”

“How are you still alive?”

“Excuse you, I take multivitamins. Sometimes. So you really shouldn’t feel bad about the soup. This is perfect.” He snags a brownie off the plate and hands it to Eskel. “Do you want to know a secret?”

Eskel takes the brownie. “Yeah?”

“I tried making brownies on my own and they turned out so burnt, I set off the fire alarm. I’m no longer allowed in the kitchen unless Priscilla is there to supervise me.” Jaskier smiles sheepishly. “I got these from my favorite bakery in Ard Carraigh. I even asked the baker to cut them unevenly so it would look like I did it. These brownies are a lie.”

“A delicious lie.”

“I take brownies very seriously.” Jaskier has a tiny smudge of honey on the corner of his mouth. Eskel wants to kiss it away.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he says instead.

Jaskier’s smile is radiant. “So am I. Though, I’ll admit, I wasn’t sure if I would ever get here.”

“Why not?”

“I wasn’t sure if this is what you wanted.” Jaskier shifts closer so that his arm is pressed against Eskel’s. “I could tell you found me attractive, but I wasn’t sure if that was all it was, or if you were interested in more than just flirting.”

Eskel shrugs. “I’m not good at this stuff.”

“That’s not true.”

“No, I’m not,” Eskel says. “I’ve liked you for a long time, I just had no idea what to do about it. You’re magnetic, Jaskier. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since I met you. I just never thought you would feel the same way.”

“How could I not?” Jaskier brushes his fingers through Eskel’s hair. “I told you, Eskel, you’re so good. And so kind and smart and funny. And you have your life together. It’s fucking intimidating.”

“You think I’m intimidating?”

“Incredibly so. You have a farm. You have _employees._ ”

“Deidre? She basically employs herself. I just sign the paychecks.”

Jaskier chuckles. “Look, I basically live off of frozen food and cereal. The fact that you have a stocked pantry is intimidating enough on its own.”

“Second date, I’m teaching you how to cook. We can start simple with pasta or something.”

“So, there will be a second date?”

Eskel feels his face grow hot. “I mean, if you want—”

“I do,” Jaskier says. “And a third. And maybe a fourth.”

“We haven’t even finished the first date yet.” Eskel’s mouth has gone dry. Jaskier’s face is very close to his.

“I knew I wanted there to be more than one date before I got here.” Jaskier laces his fingers through Eskel’s.

Eskel squeezes his hands. “I find you pretty fucking intimidating too.”

“Me?” Jaskier laughs. “You may be the first person to think that in the history of ever.”

“You’re funny and you’re confident and you’re gorgeous. Really, really gorgeous.”

“The confidence is ninety percent bullshit and the beauty is all good genes and excellent skin care.”

“Whatever it is, it’s working.” Eskel closes the distance between them and presses his lips to Jaskier’s. Jaskier tastes like chocolate and honey and his lips are warm and soft. Jaskier fists his hands in the front of Eskel’s shirt and pulls him closer so that Eskel is practically on top of the other man. Eskel presses Jaskier back against the couch, bracketing Jaskier’s body with his arms. He’s hyper-aware of all the places he wants to touch, but doesn’t quite dare.

Not until Jaskier pulls away long enough to whisper, “Touch me.”

So Eskel does. He lets his hands explore, tracing over surprisingly broad shoulders, a narrow waist, a flat stomach, and strong thighs. He trails kisses along Jaskier’s jaw and down the curve of his neck, feeling Jaskier’s throat work as he whispers Eskel’s name. He could spend all night like this, he thinks, just kissing and touching Jaskier, holding the man he’s been pining after for months.

“Do you want to come upstairs?” he asks, pressing a kiss to the soft spot where Jaskier’s neck meets his shoulder.

Jaskier’s lips brush against his cheek; Eskel can feel the curve of his smile. “Dear heart, I thought you’d never ask.”

***

The last time Jaskier was in Eskel’s room, things were still tentative and awkward between them, with Eskel pining over this beautiful, seemingly unattainable man who had crashed into his life and turned everything upside down with his blue eyes, his smile, and his leggings. This time, Jaskier tugs Eskel through the door and kisses him hard, nipping at Eskel’s lower lip, hands roaming shamelessly. Eskel doesn’t remember the last time he was kissed like this, like the other person would die if they had to stop kissing him. He’s pretty sure he’s never wanted to kiss someone this badly before.

But Eskel forces himself to break the kiss, take a step backwards, and look. Jaskier’s cheeks are flushed, his lips are red from kissing, and his hair is rumpled. Eskel will never get tired of the way the other man is looking at him, like there’s nothing else that Jaskier would rather be looking at.

“Okay?” Jaskier asks with a surprisingly shy smile. 

“More than okay.” Eskel’s voice is hoarse.

Jaskier reaches out and flicks open the top button of Eskel’s flannel shirt, his eyes never leaving Eskel’s face. “I can’t even tell you how long I’ve wanted this. Probably since the first moment I saw you. I really can’t overstate how attractive the combination of flannel and broad shoulders is. It’s really—”

Eskel kisses him as Jaskier unbuttons the next button on his shirt.

Jaskier huffs a laugh against his mouth. “Sorry, I babble when I’m nervous.”

“You have nothing to be nervous about.”

“I’m about to fall into bed with a gorgeous man with fantastic shoulders and an even better ass.”

Eskel cocks an eyebrow at him. “Oh, is that what’s going on here? I thought you just wanted another tour of the house.”

“You’re not funny,” Jaskier tells him with mock seriousness, though his lips twitch up at the corners. He flicks open another two buttons. His hands are shaking a little. “I need you to know how difficult it was for me to not jump you last time we were in this room. I wanted your family to all find some urgent business elsewhere so badly.”

“They take bribes.”

“I’ll keep that in mind for next time.” 

Jaskier pops the last button open and tugs Eskel’s shirt off. Eskel lets it fall to the ground and tugs his undershirt over his head, tossing it aside. He’s momentarily self-conscious— it’s been a long time since anyone saw him shirtless— but the naked hunger in Jaskier’s gaze alleviates his worries. Slowly, Eskel undoes his belt and pulls off his jeans and boxers, gratified by the long, low breath Jaskier lets out when his cock springs free.

“I want that inside me five minutes ago,” Jaskier says, eyes riveted on it.

“You’re wearing too many clothes for that right now.”

Jaskier undresses faster than Eskel knew was humanly possible, tossing his sweater and jeans aside without ceremony. He looks just as good naked as Eskel imagined, with a body that’s long, lean, and dusted with dark hair. His cock, already hard and ready, is as pretty as the rest of him. Eskel reaches out to take Jaskier’s hips in his hands and pulls Jaskier flush against him, bending his head to capture Jaskier’s mouth in his again.

As they kiss, Eskel backs towards the bed, pulling Jaskier with him. He’s so focused on Jaskier’s lips and his hands and the feeling of his erection pressed against Eskel’s thigh that he falls backwards onto the bed, landing with an oomph. Jaskier lands on top of him, laughing, and Eskel is going to apologize, but Jaskier is already kissing him again. Eskel runs his hands over Jaskier’s back and shoulders, reveling in the feeling of warm, soft skin, and lets his hands slide down to cup Jaskier’s ass. Jaskier’s breath hitches.

“Okay?” Eskel asks.

“So, so okay,” Jaskier says.

“Have I mentioned that you have a fucking fantastic ass?” Eskel digs his fingers into the globes of Jaskier’s ass.

“You haven’t. Feel free to keep telling me.”

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” Eskel kisses his way down Jaskier’s throat. “Gods, I can’t get over how pretty you are.”

“Fuck, Eskel.” Jaskier’s voice is gratifyingly breathless. “If you keep kissing me like this, it’s going to be an embarrassingly quick showing and then I’ll never be able to look you in the eye again.”

“Condoms are in the top drawer of the nightstand.” When Eskel went out to buy a box of condoms— his old ones had expired last year— he felt presumptuous as all fuck, but he’s so glad he did now that he has Jaskier naked on top of him.

Instead of standing up to reach the nightstand, Jaskier shimmies up the bed towards it so that his hips are level with Eskel’s face. Eskel nuzzles at the jut of his hip bones, the soft skin of his lower belly, the tuft of dark curls framing his cock. He smells salty, musky, and fucking delicious.

“Flavored condoms?” Jaskier sounds delighted.

“Mm.” Eskel nuzzles at the head of his cock, drawing a gasp from Jaskier. “Grab one of those for you.”

“Yeah,” Jaskier says, voice a bit squeaky. “Yeah, I can do that.”

There’s the sound of foil crinkling and Jaskier rolls off of Eskel, much to Eskel’s dismay. When Eskel makes an inarticulate noise of protest, Jaskier laughs. Eskel looks over to see Jaskier sliding the condom on his cock. There’s a little bottle of lube next to him on the bed. As soon as the condom is on, Eskel pounces. He slides his hands under Jaskier’s ass, lifting him up so that his legs settle on Eskel’s shoulders, and licks a stripe up his shaft. Jaskier’s thighs tremble against his ears.

Some other time, Eskel might have the patience to lick and tease and drive Jaskier to the edge. Right now, he just wants Jaskier’s cock in his mouth. Jaskier’s legs tighten around him as Eskel swallows down his length. Eskel closes his eyes and loses himself in the weight of Jaskier on his tongue, the thighs clenched around him, the perfection of Jaskier’s ass in his hands, the soft moans and gasps Jaskier makes as he sucks.

“Eskel,” Jaskier says and Eskel opens his eyes to see the other man holding out the bottle of lube. Eskel releases Jaskier with one hand to let Jaskier squeeze some lube onto his fingers. Eskel runs his fingers over the cleft of Jaskier’s ass. When he finds Jaskier’s hole, he presses the tip of his index finger in. He feels the muscle clench around him as Jaskier moans encouragingly. Gently, Eskel begins to work him open, slipping in one finger, then a second.

“Gods, Eskel, your hands,” Jaskier says. “You have the best hands. And your mouth. You keep sucking me off like that, you’re never going to get rid of me.”

Eskel sucks harder and crooks his fingers to brush Jaskier’s prostate. Jaskier’s hips buck and he cries out as he comes. Eskel nuzzles at his thighs and hips before letting him up so he can dispose of the condom. Jaskier slides back into bed and kisses Eskel sweetly.

“Mm, watermelon,” he murmurs.

Eskel didn’t even notice the flavor of the condom; he was too focused on the task at hand. “How do you want me?”

“So many options.” Jaskier runs his hands over Eskel, exploring him with his fingers. When his hand closes around Eskel’s cock, Eskel lets out a long, low breath. “I want to ride you.”

Eskel nods. He’s pretty sure he would agree to anything Jaskier says right now.

Jaskier grabs another condom and tears it open. “Lie down.”

Eskel complies, watching with hungry eyes as Jaskier kneels in front of him, legs, bracketing Eskel’s thighs. Slowly, he begins to slide the condom onto Eskel’s cock. He takes his time, his deft fingers teasing at Eskel. The feeling of Jaskier’s hands on his cock is overwhelming; Eskel can’t tear his eyes away from the sight of Jaskier’s long, graceful fingers. Once Jaskier is done, Eskel surges up to kiss him again.

When Jaskier breaks the kiss, he positions his hips over Eskel’s cock. Eskel grips Jaskier’s hips and moans as Jaskier lowers himself onto Eskel. He feels as incredible around Eskel’s cock and Eskel knew he would, tight and hot. Jaskier rocks his hip in slow, shallow movements, inching Eskel deeper inside of him. Eskel is breathless, unable to do anything but hold on and watch. When he bottoms out, Jaskier’s hips still.

“This okay?” Eskel asks hoarsely.

“Fuck, yes.”

That’s all the encouragement Eskel needs. He digs his fingers into Jaskier’s waist and begins to thrust. Jaskier starts rolling his hips in time with Eskel’s thrusts, reaching down to fist his hands in Eskel’s hair. He looks gorgeous like this— lips parted in pleasure, cheeks flushed, eyes filled with lust. Eskel reaches up to lace his fingers through Jaskier’s. A soft, sweet smile curls Jaskier’s lips and he bends down to capture Eskel’s mouth in his, increasing the tempo of his hips at the same time. Eskel takes the hint, thrusting harder. Jaskier moans into his mouth and Eskel slides down his hands to cup the other man’s face.

“Jask,” he whispers. He can feel the heat building in his lower gut. “Fuck, you feel so damn good.”

Jaskier laughs breathlessly. “Funny, I was just about to tell you the same thing.”

When Eskel comes, Jaskier kisses the moans from his mouth and collapses on top of him, boneless. The weight of him on top of Eskel feels perfect and he holds him close as he slips out of him. They lay there for a long moment, both breathing hard, with Jaskier idly playing with Eskel’s hair and Eskel’s arms locked around Jaskier.

“Fuck,” Jaskier says, which is all that really needs to be said.

Eskel grins and turns his head to press a kiss about Jaskier’s wrist. “Fuck,” he agrees.

“I could get used to this.” Jaskier’s smile is slow and hopeful.

Eskel tightens his hold on the other man. He can feel Jaskier’s heart beating against his chest. He doesn’t plan on letting him go anytime soon. “So could I.”

***

It’s been a long time since Eskel woke to a warm body next to him. In the fuzzy moments before he opens his eyes, he thinks it must be a dream— the arm thrown over his waist, the foot pressed against his ankle, the hair tickling his nose.

Then he opens his eyes and finds himself looking into Jaskier’s blue eyes, somehow even bluer in the morning light. Jaskier has a pillow crease in his cheek, his hair is a mess, there’s a spot of drool on his chin, and he’s somehow the most beautiful thing Eskel has ever seen.

“Good morning.” Jaskier’s lips curl into a soft smile and Eskel decides that he wants more mornings like this, waking up to the sight of blue eyes and a sleepy smile. Maybe someday, every morning will be like this.

***

It’s a little less than a year after that first date when Eskel realizes that he wants to marry Jaskier. He’s known that this was heading in that direction for a while now; in the past year, Jaskier has slipped into his life so easily, it’s like he’s always been there. Eskel’s whole family loves him— even if he still prefers his meat well-done— and he has a spot at the dinner table between Eskel and Ciri every Sunday night. At the beginning of the summer, he moved in with Eskel and besides the sudden lack of closet space in the house and the instant mac n’ cheese filling his pantry, it’s been perfect.

Eskel is more in love with Jaskier than he knew it was possible to be, so when he’s in the kitchen one morning and looks out the window to see Jaskier coming out of the Downward Goat tent with Deidre, something just clicks into place in his head. Jaskier and Deidre are both laughing while Lil Bleater dances around them. Jaskier is wearing leggings with musical notes on them, his smile is wide, and his eyes are full of joy. A warm glow fills Eskel’s chest at the sight.

When he proposes a month later, he ties a ring and sign reading _Will you marry me?_ around Lil Bleater’s neck. She eats the sign, but luckily leaves the ring unscathed. Jaskier cries, but they may just be tears of laughter.

***

“Whose bird-brained idea was it to have the goat be a flower girl?” Yennefer demands, standing in the doorway of the tent where Eskel, Geralt, Lambert, and Aiden are getting ready with her hands planted on her hips.

Eskel looks up from his cufflinks. “That’s my soon-to-be husband you’re calling bird-brained.”

“If the shoe fits,” Lambert says behind him, which earns him a warning hiss of, _“Lambert!”_ from his husband. Eskel ignores both of them.

“I’m only refraining from calling him a fucking moron because it’s his wedding day.” But Yennefer’s voice is full of affection. “The flowers are all gone, as is a good chunk of Ciri’s dress.”

“All of the flowers?”

“All of the ones we set aside for Ciri to throw. Unless you want to rip apart one of the bouquets or the garlands.”

“No, Jaskier wouldn’t like that.” Eskel shrugs. “It’s fine, we don’t need flowers thrown.”

Yennefer’s eyes narrow. “Ciri is going to be devastated if she’s not part of the ceremony.”

And fuck, that’s true. Ciri’s been excited for months about walking down the aisle with Lil Bleater and throwing flowers.

Geralt comes to put a soothing hand on Eskel’s shoulder. “Ciri can still walk with Lil Bleater. It’s not the end of the world.”

Deidre appears next to Yennefer, looking slightly frazzled in her purple dress and carrying a basket. “Okay, I picked every dandelion, buttercup, and clover I could find. This will have to do for Ciri to throw. They don’t exactly match the color scheme, but no one’s going to notice.”

Yennefer looks impressed. “Clever. I wouldn’t have thought of that.”

Deidre looks like she would preen if she had the time. “Cleaning up after Lil Bleater is one of my primary job functions.”

“It is a full time job,” Eskel says. “Ciri’s dress?”

“Renfri and Triss are currently reassuring her that asymmetrical hemlines are all the rage in the south right now.” Deidre comes over to pat Eskel on the arm. “Everything’s well in hand, boss. Stop frowning, it makes you look older.”

“When I finally fire you for insubordination, you’ll have a great second career as a wedding planner.”

Deidre only rolls her eyes in response. “Ceremony’s in fifteen minutes. Don’t be late.”

As soon as she’s out of the tent, Aiden says, “You really have a type of person you surround yourself with, Eskel.”

Geralt chuckles. “I think all of us do.”

Fifteen minutes later, Eskel stands at the mouth of the tent while Ciri walks down the aisle in a purple dress with a good chunk missing from the hemline, throwing handfuls of buttercups, dandelions, and clovers and leading an unrepentant-looking Lil Bleater. Lil Bleater’s flower crown is looking significantly worse for wear, but no one seems to notice. Yennefer, Geralt and Triss walk down the aisle after them, followed by Aiden and Lambert, Priscilla and Jaskier’s cousin Ferrant, and Renfri and Deidre. Only when they’ve reached the end of the aisle does Eskel emerge from his tent at the same time Jaskier comes out of the house.

At the beginning of the wedding planning process, there was a lot of debate about whether or not they should get married at Kaer Morhen Farms. Most of their friends and family were of the opinion that Eskel and Jaskier live and work at the farm and wouldn’t it be nice to get away for their special day? But as Jaskier walks towards him, Eskel is so glad they ended up choosing to get married here. They met here. They got to know each other here. They fell in love here. It’s only fitting that they would take this next step here.

“You look…” Eskel doesn’t have words for how Jaskier looks in his bright blue tuxedo.

Jaskier reaches out and squeezes his hands. “So do you.”

Eskel can only stand there and stare at the man he loves until he remembers that they’re actually supposed to be getting married right now. “You ready?”

Jaskier slips his arm through Eskel’s. “Always, my love.”

Later, when the vows and rings have been exchanged, speeches have been given, an absurd amount of cake has been eaten, and they’ve all danced until their feet are sore, Eskel and Jaskier sit together at the sweetheart table and watch the last few people on the dance floor while the strings of lights glow around them and a sweet, slow love song plays. Geralt is dancing with Ciri, the one person on the Continent who can get him to dance without complaint, while Vesemir is dancing with one of Jaskier’s aunts and Aiden is twirling Priscilla around like they’re dancing to a much faster song.

Eskel’s heart is so full of love, he thinks he might burst with it.

“Was it everything you wanted?” Jaskier asks drowsily, resting his head on Eskel’s shoulder.

Eskel presses a kiss into the top of his head. “Of course it was. I married you today. What else could I want?”

Not long after, a new picture will join the many family photos decorating the wall of their house. No matter how many times Eskel passes it on the stairwell, it will always bring a smile to his face. The photo shows Jaskier and Eskel from the back, Jaskier’s head on Eskel’s shoulder while Eskel whispers in his new husband’s ear. The side of Eskel’s face visible is full of naked adoration. In the background, Ciri and Geralt can be seen on the dance floor while Lambert, Yennefer, Triss, Renfri, and Deidre are at the table next to Eskel and Jaskier’s, all laughing. No one notices Lil Bleater under the table, happily munching on the remnants of Deidre’s bouquet.

Other pictures will join it over the years— Jaskier’s college graduation, Ciri’s high school graduation, Jaskier standing proudly in front of his new yoga studio, Eskel with tears in his eyes as he holds their newly adopted twin daughters in his arms. There will be more baby photos, and eventually class photos and prom photos and graduation photos. Jaskier will say at least once a week that they need a bigger house for all the damn photos.

But that picture, the one of Eskel and Jaskier at their wedding, will always be Eskel’s favorite.

***

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments and kudos are always appreciated.
> 
> Feel free to find me on [Tumblr](https://ghostinthelibrarywrites.tumblr.com/) or Discord at ghostinthelibrary#1691


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